


high class place

by meganekun



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Fingering, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Praise Kink, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 08:45:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8617390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meganekun/pseuds/meganekun
Summary: Sometimes, when Tooru feels locked up in societal and his own expectations, Hajime tells him a truth he wholeheartedly believes: as long as Tooru wants it, there are no limits to what he can do.It goes unspoken, because there is no Tooru without Hajime, not when it really matters, the rule should be  as long as Tooru wants it and Hajime endorses it.  
The summary is misleading, this is just enthusiastic ass eating filth.





	

 

 

 

Hajime knew this was a mistake, but not how much grief it would truly cause him.

He rids Tooru of his trousers slowly, pulling them down inch by inch, so that he feels the movement of sliding fabric as though he were tracing it with the flat of his hand. They’re not meeting each other’s eyes; or, rather, Tooru watches Hajime’s face, while the latter tries his utmost best not to look back in fear of it being too embarrassing. Once they’re down to just below his knees, an annoyed sigh makes Hajime look up.

Tooru rolls his eyes and pushes Hajime to the side gently, using the sole of his foot, as he kicks off his sweatpants and takes off his socks, as well.

"I’m not Takeru, you know," he says, crossing his arms over his naked chest. "I’m not gonna cry because my shirt got stuck around my giant head."

Hajime positions himself closer again, hovers over Tooru. This warm, full feeling in his stomach he’s been getting a lot lately, the one that seems to automatically trigger a "lovesick" smile upon his face, unless he physically prevents it from doing so, settles down just shy of the outer layer of his skin. He bites his cheek and hopes that it won’t show.

"So, you admit you have a giant head then."

Tooru’s mouth opens wide, both in an attempt to gasp and say something, but he doesn’t succeed at either. Now, however, Hajime can allow himself to smile, because it will very clearly be at his helplessness, not at anything suspiciously romantic Tooru could question him for.

He thinks he’s not supposed to, but while Tooru strains to think of something, Hajime looks down, at the peek of muscled stomach below his still-crossed arms, unnaturally smooth, sharp elbows; at the thin trail of hair leading down from his belly button (an outie, while Hajime’s is an innie – he’d made so much fun of Tooru for it as a child) into his plain, royal blue boxers; at the long legs beneath Hajime, the ones that don’t show their hidden strength until flexed.

As Hajime reaches down to caress the tender skin on the inside of Tooru’s knee, goosebumps erupt all over his pale body. Guiltily, he grabs the blanket from the made part of the bed next to them and throws it over himself, pressing down so that it would effectively cover Tooru as well.

It’s not particularly comfortable, but Hajime doesn’t feel like having sex fully underneath the sheets. It demonstrates some aspect of shame, dirtiness, neither of which are anything he would ever associate with this.

"Iwa-chan," Tooru murmurs, quiet and deep, all the while spreading his legs and pressing them to Hajime’s, not going as far as intertwining them behind his back yet.

"Mm," Hajime grunts, his tone rising a little bit towards the end.

But Tooru doesn’t follow his call up with any question. Not a vocal one, anyway, but after countless months of being like this – he really doesn’t remember when it started, sometime in high school, maybe, though it wasn’t official, not for a long time, because it didn’t have to – Hajime has a tick for knowing when Tooru wants to be kissed, and is usually right on time with his assumptions.

Such is this time. He sees it in the proud way Tooru lifts his chin, showing off the curve of his jawline, when he sees Hajime lean down, in the hasty movement to the left right before their lips touch, so that he can accommodate Hajime perfectly.

The good thing about liking someone so much, Hajime thinks, is that even when it’s not perfect, it’s really good, anyway.

They kiss slowly, languidly, but Hajime makes the decision to speed up the tempo after a while, because Tooru is almost naked and Hajime is almost clothed and wants more. It’s strange, really, how patient Tooru can be when he wants to, just as needy and impatient as he is other times. Sometimes, when Tooru feels locked up in societal and his own expectations, Hajime tells him a truth he wholeheartedly believes: as long as Tooru wants it, there are no limits to what he can do.

It goes unspoken, because there is no Tooru without Hajime, not when it really matters, the rule should be _as long as Tooru wants it and Hajime endorses it_.

Just as he helped Tooru get rid of his clothes, Tooru joins him in taking off his. The shirt goes flying, and Tooru starts giggling, so hard that he goes red in the face, so long, until Hajime has no other choice but to join him, leaning his head against his shaking chest.

When Tooru manages to catch his breath, Hajime takes his chance and presses a careful kiss on his solar plenum.

He goes down, kissing, biting, even leaving a few hickeys, despite Tooru’s whiny disapproval because he doesn’t want to be lewd in public. Hajime doesn’t care about the public, at least not right now, in this equally quiet and loud space they’ve created for themselves simply by being in it together.

"Enough," Tooru whispers, and nudges him to roll over so that he can be on top.

Hajime, huffing and puffing, lets him. Tooru doesn’t waste any time putting his long fingers on Hajime’s tan skin, not marveling at the contrast – they’re a little past that – but digging into it, one hand on his side, one on his shoulder.

"You’re gonna give me a massage, or what," Hajime chuckles, tapping his arm and dragging Tooru down by his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss.

When they surface from it, Tooru says, casually as ever: "I could, if you wanted me to."

Hajime swallows, but shakes his head. He deems himself sensitive enough right now, with his nipples standing up erect from Tooru’s care. Either Tooru doesn’t see that, or he just wants to have his fun, as he takes one in his mouth, anyway. Hajime throws his head back a little, inhales sharply.

"Iwa-chan," Tooru says again, louder and more self-assured this time.

"What’s it," Hajime murmurs, enjoying Tooru’s nails scratching up and down the dense muscle of his thighs. Tooru interrupts himself by stealing a kiss, letting his lip drag in a move that should be more ridiculous than erotic, and he doesn’t quite pull it off, but something about it gets Hajime anyway.

"What are we gonna do today?"

"Whatever you want," Hajime says, shrugging his shoulders. He doesn’t particularly say it with Tooru’s pleasure as a priority in mind, rather than the fact that he’s not feeling like anything specific today, but it makes Tooru smile fondly at him and he feels guilty.

"You sure you wanna say that?" Tooru chuckles, easy and nonchalant, but the slight blush sitting high on his cheekbones betrays him. The guilt disappears from Hajime’s gut as he recognizes his chance to make it up to him.

"Yeah," he shrugs one of his shoulders, scowling in an attempt that he hopes is better than Oikawa’s at appearing casual.

He is anything but, though, because the far-away look in Tooru’s eyes has got to signify that this is something he really _does_ want, and wants badly, because Oikawa Tooru is not one to ask for things whimsically.

"Well, uh, it’s just an idea," Tooru drops his head to Hajime’s neck and presses a kiss to the tender skin, lingering a little too long and ending up sucking a dark spot into it.

"You know, I’m not gonna tell you whether I’m up for it if you won’t tell me what it is," Hajime says, rolling his eyes. He’s not particularly annoyed – a little impatient, sure, but that’s not it – he just wishes Tooru would finally realize there is not a thing in the world that would make him see Tooru in a different light. He knows him well enough to know that is the problem here.

"Course," Tooru resigns himself, Hajime can tell, steeling that wavering confidence of his. His slender, long fingers, with unproportionally large knuckles – the ones Hajime loves to trace during lazy cuddling – slip under the hem of Hajime’s loose pants, obnoxiously bright due to being a gift from Tooru, probably bought because he had a coupon left to their local sportswear store.

Hajime doesn’t ask for much, and sometimes he thinks he should, but where he’s not residing in a pile of expensive presents, Tooru spoils him rotten when it comes to affection, so he’s not complaining, really not complaining at all.

"So you know how guys eat out girls sometimes," there’s a small pause with Tooru moving his fingers back and forth along Hajime’s hipbone, before he finally speaks.

"If by sometimes you mean when they’re not gay, sure."

At any other time Tooru would probably groan in frustration at how lame Hajime’s jokes are – which is pure hypocrisy, if you ask Hajime’s endless memory of space puns – but there is no reaction other than a quiet hum, this time.

"I was wondering if you wanted to try that," the glance Tooru directs at Hajime is miniscule, before he looks down again and removes his fingers, Hajime’s skin losing warmth so rapidly that a whine almost escapes his lips before he manages to close them shut. "With an ass."

"Whose ass?" Hajime asks, licking his lips in genuine curiosity.

Tooru finally lifts his head, but unlike any sort of aroused or at least adorably unsure look Hajime expects from him, it’s the view of annoyance in his narrowed eyes he was missing during his tease earlier. Most important of all, it’s paired with an inherent seriousness, not the haunting kind Tooru puts on display when he’s determined to win, but the kind that almost leaks with something raw.

There’s certain power in that rawness, though, the way it whispers _Don’t fuck with me, because even if you won’t regret it now, trust me when I say that I will make you, later._

Tooru is powerful even when in submission; Hajime hates and loves that about him equally.

"It’s a serious question," Hajime says calmly.

Though the annoyance bleeds out of the corners of his eyes, the seriousness stays wedged inside of his pupils. "Okay," Tooru says quietly. "I would like you to do it to me," he says, quieter yet.

"Okay," Hajime echoes, and this time, Tooru goes down even more easily than usual, though that might be due to the miniscule shaking of his shoulders Hajime takes him by as he rolls them over.

Goosebumps have formed on Tooru’s skin, and the spots Hajime’s lips latched onto are turning a faded shade of pink, the capillaries not having broken enough to form darker love bites, but the skin abused enough to show for it. He doesn’t bother to touch up on them, instead raining feather light kisses on Tooru’s pale arms, especially the insides of them that barely see sunlight as it is, giving the biggest knuckle of his hand that is on his thumb a bite.

Following up on that, Hajime makes quick work of Tooru’s pants, rolling his thumb over the underside of the bulge that shows less clearly through his underwear than he expected it to; he must be really nervous.

"Relax," Hajime murmurs into Tooru’s navel, using his tongue on it in intricate ornaments, simultaneously kneading between Tooru’s thighs. "It’s gonna be fine."

"Hmm," Tooru lets out, not unaffected, but too controlled for Hajime’s taste. "Just worried you won’t be good at it."

Hajime laughs, as he does whenever Tooru is full of shit. "Then I’m just gonna suck you off, if that’s still good enough for you."

The stomach beneath his lips shakes in quiet laughter. Hajime mouths just beneath the hem, as he slides his right hand up Tooru’s torso and feels the muscle of his shoulder, considering its tenseness lowered just enough to pull Tooru’s boxers down for the head of his semi-hard cock to be revealed, the smallest drop of pre-cum settling on his abdomen.

Hajime keeps eye contact when he licks it off.

For the next few minutes, his hands are busy. He uses all kinds of techniques, encircling Tooru’s shaft tightly, pressing down onto the slit on its crown, wiggling the underwear lower with each movement, until it’s somewhere around his knees. He goes up and down, turning his fist from one side to the other at the same time, creating more pressure and friction, but he’s so focused on taking the lube out of the drawer next to the bed that he misses the point where Tooru’s heavy breathing has become a joint venture of that and quiet whines, mewls almost, when he hits a particularly sensitive spot.

Make that open-mouthed moan, as Hajime fondles Tooru’s balls, two broad, rough, utterly dedicated and unashamed palms wrestling the delicious sound out of him.

Once the small bottle of lubricant is safe near Hajime on the bed, he takes a little bit of time to appreciate this and this alone, the security of his hands on Tooru, with not much space for wrong-doings after all this time; his pleasure is not a given, he has to work for it just as much as Tooru works for it when their positions are reversed, but there’s little anxiety or otherwise uncomfortable feelings involved.

Not that Hajime expects putting his mouth in the immediate proximity of Tooru’s ass to be particularly weird, but it’s completely uncharted territory, as they have never gone past simple kneading through pants during make out sessions. Hell, if he doesn’t want to, though: there’s something enticing about the idea of having Tooru’s very core, if one might call it that, spread out in front of him, undoubtedly wet from his spit, shiny even, maybe; it’s muscle, right? It might twitch in anticipation, or in response to Hajime’s ministrations – he would consider himself lucky to see either.

The reality is not much different, but surprises him by a lot.

"You gonna lay on your stomach for me?" Hajime asks, licking along the faint traces of white, lightning bolt-like marks on Tooru’s thighs, touching them with his teeth without biting down, even though if the jerks of Tooru’s hips are anything to go by, he wants him to.

"Uh-huh," Tooru confirms breathily, shifting his weight onto his elbows and turning around, a little ungraceful due to his boxers hanging around his ankles now. He makes a move to kick them off once his back faces Hajime, and the stretch of his calves consequently shows on his ass, too.

It’s not overly big and he expects it to be as hard and taut to the touch as Tooru’s legs are when he tenses them, and maybe it is, he will know so soon; but right now, all he can do is watch the mesmerizing little sight in front of him, as Tooru’s ass cheeks jiggle and bounce in front of him.

"Fuck," Hajime mouths – it feels an awful lot like a private dance and, well, who knew he had a hard-on for that kind of thing, so if nothing else goes right, he’ll remember today with this piece of knowledge – and dives in.

He narrowly avoids getting hit by Tooru’s jerking-still ankle, as his tongue, almost involuntarily, leaves the confines of his mouth in a desire to lick a broad stripe up Tooru’s left cheek, a lot closer to his hole than expected.

"Ha—" Tooru gasps out, and Hajime can’t tell if it’s a broken attempt at his first name, or a nonsense sound of pleasure, but either way, it’s more noise than he has made all night – Tooru is vocal, alright, but only when he’s completely at ease which is an art of a state – although half of that has got to be attributed to the surprise of the gesture.

Hajime isn’t discouraged, either way, but decides to build on that tactic, as he removes his tongue swiftly, holding himself far away enough to not give Tooru any sort of sensory satisfaction.

He waits it out patiently, before sliding a hand down onto Tooru’s ribcage, over his heart, avoiding his nipple even with his palm, to feel his heartbeat. It’s so fast Hajime supposes it’s painful, and it only quickens when he suddenly drops down to rest his face against Tooru’s ass, no pressure in the drag of the miniscule stubble above his upper lip against the crease above his crack.

It’s enough to have Tooru grind backwards in a search of friction, but all he receives is the loss of touch, hot breath from Hajime’s mouth blown right on his hole, instead.

"H—mh, shi’," Tooru half-moans, half-whispers, his fists tightening against the pillow, and Hajime knows his stamina well enough to not have to assume it’s because his arm strength is not enough to have him strain like that. He really underestimated how sensitive Tooru might be there, especially the first time they’re doing something like this.

"Tooru," Hajime whispers, incredibly eloquent, even though he can feel the thump in his own chest and its echo, with a note of throbbing, between his legs, equally strongly.

"Mh, don’t tease," Tooru whines, half genuine, half able to latch onto his usual dramatic attitude because of the timeout Hajime gives him once more, the hand on his rib cage moving further to the right to one of his fists so that their fingers are touching.

"I dunno," Hajime responds and drops down again, this time internally cracking himself up at the poor imitation of Tooru’s clearly copied from somewhere move earlier, as he kissed him and let his slick bottom lip drag against his when pulling back. He gets his first taste for this part of Tooru, the texture of him printed against the inside of his lip even once he’s back up.

"What’s it gonna take," Tooru asks, the tone more appropriate for a statement rather than a question, and sighs, though it’s clearly a sigh of pleasure.

"First of all," Hajime moves to the side, as he leans down to press kisses along Tooru’s spine, "I want you to stop moving. Keep your hips in control."

"Hm, I would, if you weren’t teasi—haah," Tooru retorts, the end of his last word going under when Hajime rubs his naked knee against him, all the way from his hole to his perineum. Hajime bites down at Tooru’s side, where there’s more fat than along his vertebrae, when the realization hits him that Tooru could probably get off just like this, grinding all of himself against his leg, ass up, chest heaving, cock bouncing against his belly, small involuntary twitches tearing guttural moans from his vocal cords.

Focus, Hajime, focus, he tells himself.

"Hold your hips down, or I’ll do it for you," he commands, but his tone remains soft and affectionate, as he kisses between Tooru’s shoulder blades.

"Hh—fine," Tooru groans as Hajime removes his leg with one last press against his hole.

"Good boy," Hajime says against his neck, and he can’t quite take himself seriously, but no better praise comes to mind at the moment.

Tooru’s panting stops for a moment, so that Hajime is almost worried that he stopped breathing, but he’s proved wrong by the arch of Tooru’s back, ass raising upward with another jiggle.

Well, that probably shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Hajime curls his fingers into the sheets for a moment, hoping Tooru won’t see, too busy finding a comfortable position a little lower, now that he’s not allowed to move. Hajime is about to offer him to lie down against the bed, but decides against it, thinking of different angles and possible points of pleasure.

The broad lick seemed to do well enough, but before Hajime can repeat that, closer to his goal in the center, he takes the two ass cheeks in his hands, not kneading, but bouncing them up and down before pulling them to the sides. Tooru’s breath hitches and his knees buckle at the shallow stretch, panting growing louder the rougher Hajime pulls.

"Okay?" he asks, going by experience with himself only.

"Hn, uh-huh," Tooru nods quickly, moving his fists closer to his head, sharp elbows sliding against the sheets.

Hajime tilts his head, so only the right half of his mouth is in – or as _in_ as it can be, considering he hasn’t put the lube to use yet – and the left half can latch onto the outside, creating some sort of vacuum, and sticks his tongue out to coat everything in spit before he begins to suck with as much fervor as can be translated into the ministration.

Strangely, Tooru is not as vocal this time around, even though Hajime is convinced this wasn’t a bad move, but after a short amount of time, he feels the muscle around and in his mouth loosen slightly in relaxation. Hajime physically shakes his head to get the thought of listening for every possible reaction of Tooru’s out of his mind, flicking his tongue as a consequence, though without much pressure, and at that Tooru’s legs spread.

"Hips still," Hajime says, muffled by Tooru’s ass – a sentence he never expected to be able to form in his head – but either he understands or enjoys the movement of his lips enough for his body to freeze, as his instructions are obeyed.

Hajime removes his mouth with a loud slurping sound that makes him shiver, and Tooru turns his head to watch him, eyes wide, hungry, not unlike his parted lips with imprints resembling the shape of Tooru’s canines Hajime is intimately familiar with.

They watch each other in silence for a few moments, before Hajime reaches for the lube, finding it no longer on the bed, but on the floor next to it, probably kicked off by one or another of Tooru’s eager limbs.

Hajime still feels the other’s eyes on him as he opens it with his thumb, his other hand behind his ear to warm up the fingers, before he squeezes out an amount a little too big. It only puts him at an advantage, as Tooru gets to watch him slicken his fingers in slow back-and-forth movements, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he tries to get them not to shake. It’s not the nerves, that’s not it; but there’s a pleasant spike in his belly alongside the constant of arousal, as he wipes the excess on his chest and moves in closer, breathing in Tooru’s air.

"Go ahead," Tooru whispers, tilting his head ever so slightly for their noses to rub together.

Hajime breathes out.

His sucking had been relatively shallow, but it helps skip the first part of how Tooru has fingered him the few times they got that far, circling his finger around his rim, getting him used to the general sensation of something intruding. He doesn’t even get until the first knuckle, though, that’s how tight Tooru still is.

"Won’t you be good and open up for me?" Hajime whispers, more to himself than anything, circling Tooru’s walls, and then he feels it.

The twitch he has been waiting for; it is neither in anticipation or because of a smart touch to a particularly sensitive point, not really, it’s because of… this.

"M good, I’m good," Tooru pleads, voice breaking from whisper to quiet whining, but gone are all traces of ingenuity in it.

"You are, aren’t you," Hajime says, a little louder, a little more assured that he’s on the right way.

"I told you not to move and you stayed so still for me, so obedient for me," he continues, the cringe at his uncreative choice of words reaching even through the thick haze of arousal, but dulling the more he concentrates on the feel of Tooru around his finger, growing more loose and warm by the second, as he pulls his cheeks apart.

Whether the moan in response is because of that or what he said – Hajime, quite frankly, doesn’t give a damn anymore, as he moves to slide his tongue in alongside.

It’s a bit of an awkward affair, seeing as how he ends up feeling more of his finger than Tooru, but he accustoms to it after some time, even figuring out how to imitate the thrusting motion of his finger with his tongue, though not quite as precise – if his first time fingering somebody but himself can be called precise, but he has high hopes – and not at the same speed, but he’s getting there, and _shit,_ is Tooru being patient with him. If it weren’t for the time and effort that goes into fingering, Hajime would let him claim another orgasm – assuming he can bring him to a first one, like this – inside of himself, though it’s not a preference of his under usual circumstances.

The more he gets the hang of it, the more he is able to register Tooru’s breathy moans, gutturally deep, breaking into a high pitch from time to time, especially when Hajime takes the liberty to suck so sloppily that the entire room echoes with the sound of it, his cock long since leaking in his irreversibly soiled underwear in response, but that can wait, fuck, can it wait.

He lets out a moan himself as he pulls his finger out to claw Tooru open with both hands, pressing his face as deeply as possible, the shaking of Tooru’s body creating vibrations and the smell of his favorite flavored lube all-encompassing, especially when he closes his eyes and there is nothing else beyond it; he almost feels disconnected from his own body, as though it only consists of what can touch Tooru’s ass at the moment.

Tooru downright _howls_ when Hajime accidentally opens his mouth in an attempt to get some oxygen into his lungs – smashing his face into Tooru’s ass so that his nose is pressed against the crack as though against glass was not his smartest idea – and his teeth brush Tooru’s walls. He grinds back so harshly that Hajime is forced to cough for a second, and the thought of punishing him is somewhere in the back of his mind, but he doubts he can pull himself together enough to deliver it appropriately, with his head going dizzy from the cut off air supply.

"Tooru, you need to be a good boy," he gasps out hoarsely, with kitten licks around the rim following, as he has half a mind to renew the lube on his fingers.

Tooru sounds just as gone as he is, moans more desperate than ever, part of his chest stuck to the bed through the shin of sweat, but his legs won’t give in.

Hajime is going to make them, though.

Two fingers thrust inside Tooru, scissoring and stretching carefully, the pinky absentmindedly rubbing the outside. Hajime crooks them, not really expecting to achieve anything other than experiment, so he isn’t left very disappointed. However, after mixing up different motions of his two fingers, pushing in as deep as their length allows, with his sore tongue going in circles around them, he feels something and instinctually reaches for it, more in an attempt to feel the slick of Tooru on top of his second knuckle than anything.

Tooru tightens around him as though trying to suck him in completely, and Hajime is fortunate enough to have turned his eyes from the arch of his back to seeing _this_ , and it’s beautiful when they moan in unison.

"Hngh, Ha—j—hah—jime, do, do it, get me, please, pleasepleaseplease—" Tooru chants, and Hajime can’t take it, has to to pull his pants and boxers down in several frantic, desperate motions, has to lay a hand on himself for at least a moment, because he thinks he’ll explode otherwise.

"Haji, please, Ha—"

Hajime lets himself slump forward, on the brink of exhaustion, face above Tooru’s ass, right hand creeping forward between his legs until he clumsily finds his base, but gets a good, tight grip nevertheless, and begins to jerk him off fast and hard, his other hand not even in need of lube as it slides into Tooru’s twitching hole, stimulating him from both ends.

All Tooru is reduced to is nonsense, or maybe Hajime’s brain is not working hard enough to translate his blabber into words or at least syllables, but he sure knows what to do next, as he pushes his fingers in deep and, as luck may have it, hits Tooru’s prostate dead-on.

Tooru is yelling, screaming, crying, and Hajime is working him through it, not holding off, but keeping mercy with the harshness of his touches, going further, further, switching hands as he smears the mixture of lube and spit from Tooru’s ass together with the come that’s dripping down from his cock and licks into his hole for the last time.

Tooru’s legs collapse.

Hajime pants, frustration settling down in his throat, as he shuffles forward on the bed; but Tooru, as always, is more than he bargained for, as he tilts his head wearily, opens his mouth and points to it without lifting his hand from where it’s curled into the sheets loosely.

He barely registers the heat of Tooru’s mouth, jaw too slack to give him any proper friction, but he doesn’t need it, as their hands brush and hold onto each other and he’s coming, painting Tooru’s red lips, his cheeks, marking him, almost, even though it’s unnecessary, what they have goes so far beyond physical possessiveness—

If it’s not one hell of a sight, anyway.

It’s inhumane effort, almost, that goes into Hajime not falling down in a boneless lump on top of Tooru, but he manages to crash onto his back next to him. He's probably squeezing Tooru's arm in-between their bodies, but he just needs the spots in his vision to pass and he’ll be fine.

Some time passes before Hajime deems himself somewhat capable to get up and fetch a wet rug from the bathroom to clean them up at least for the small nap they’re bound to be taking before a shower, though his limbs feel leaden still. A bottle of water should be standing near the drawer, but he’s gonna need a glass for that.

"Tooru," he calls, "how d’you feel?"

Something that would have been a hum were it not a whisper at the same time resounds from Tooru’s tired throat, and his fingers twitch. Hajime intertwines them with his, this time.

"Gonna clean you up, ‘kay?"

Tooru reproduces the sound once more, before Hajime squeezes his hand.

"Love you so much," he whispers, before standing up slowly and leaving for the bathroom, footsteps loud as he drags his feet.

The smile isn’t quite energized enough to be giddy, but Tooru hides it into the cushion of the pillow, anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic originally started out as a slow innocent little disco sticks grinding affair for the prompt that is the first line, then i came across a hq kink meme prompt that said something short about ass eating and tsukkiyama. but tsukkiyama are my tiny smols i couldnt do that to them ;-; so this was born  
>   
> a quick thank you to lara who read over this to make sure it's not Too Weird (it probably still is but your efforts are appreciated m'smutmate)  
>   
> feel free to check out my other Much less filthy stuff feat. matsuhana, watakyouhaba and kinkuni :D


End file.
